Sixty-Nine.

10/3/14

Izzy circle

izzy

Technically, it’s not a difficult task but I am undeniably the best at this. It takes a well-trained eye to sort a premium banana from the bunch by sight alone, and I have it down to a fine art. The premium bananas are shipped to the boutique greengrocers with green eaves and rustic boxes with hessian lining. The premium bananas come from the very same soil, the same trees, the same bunch as all the other bananas, but a premium banana is a different class altogether. A premium banana glows brilliant yellow as it ripens. A premium banana has just the right amount of black shading, no bruising. A premium banana tastes like a real banana, there is flavour, there is texture – not too hard, not too soft. I sit on my swivel stool and I stare the bunches down as they roll by, hunched like a hawk. My hand flashes out, deft and sure. Only the best bananas. I get paid £6.50 an hour to sift for gold. Pure gold.

*

Sarah circle

sarah

Standing soft and shattered on the kerbside
A battered old suitcase at my feet
And a jacket that never really fit
Folded in half around my chest
I tilt my head and feel my ribs crumble away
Like creamy old sandstone to the waves
Grey skies, grey streets, grey old men
Cooing into their scarves like a flock of sad-eyed birds

This is the day I found the holes in my pockets
And realised that all those squirrelled pennies were long long lost
This is the day I pulled on my boots
And realised that no amount of patching would mend those cracks
This is the day I peered into the grumbling fridge
And realised that no matter how many times I checked, it would still be empty

This is the day I woke in the milky light of morning
Left you sprawled in dog-eared sheets
Rolling and snuffling through your double-bed dreams
Pressed the door so quietly closed, like a kiss
And stepped out into the lonely light of day

*

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